Frazzled Hearts
by tofus
Summary: Hinata works at a kinky massage place and Kageyama is his unwitting customer. (Featuring slash, crossdressing, and dense as bricks kags)
1. Marmalade

I originally had this posted on Ao3, but had to post it here too 'cause I'm paranoid af ;_; There'll be quick updates until ch 5, because I've already written them. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Hinata Shouyou, eighteen years old, virgin and single, is putting on a skirt. By now he's used to it, knees bent and relaxed while he pulls up the pinstriped thing in a single yank. He wriggles fluidly into a sailor top, the red dangly ribbon at the front as crimson as his cheeks. Scratch that – he's not as used to it as he thinks.

Two knocks on the door, and he's got minutes, _seconds_ , before the whole thing comes flying off the frame, so Hinata throws on a wig and checks his makeup one last time.

"You ready?" He looks up, and it's Kuroo in all his smug ass glory. He nods, and the taller man flashes a rare, reassuring smile.

"It's show time."

The brunet leads Hinata down the creeping hallway and mentions the guest as "vanilla," and how he might even let Kenma talk to them since that's how harmless they are. Except not really, since Kuroo and Kenma are an item and the former practically growls at whoever even _dares_ to look at his honey. The taller guy motions for the door farthest down to the left. Room 621. His usual room. Hinata nods at the disappearing shadow of his coworker, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

"Evening, sugar. I'm Erika and I'll be your girl next door tonight."

And then all the color drains from his cheeks. Because sitting grumpily on the massage table is a kid from his class.

They lock eyes for a second, and surprisingly it's the grumpy that looks away first, scowling and muttering under his breath about a "damn Oikawa," ears red even in the dim of the ceiling lamp. Hinata, sensing that the guy somehow doesn't recognize him yet, continues his pitch, albeit stuttering at first.

"P-please take your robe off and lay on your belly. Yes, like that - don't be shy. There's a towel you can use to cover up. Or maybe…you don't mind Erika looking?" He winks, wondering if it seems more like a twitch.

The taller boy pauses and coughs, slapping the skimpy cloth over navy boxers while glowering like a bear stung by one too many bees. The bleached robe slips down to his ankles. He lies with his head down, and Hinata is glad that they're no longer facing.

"Beginner class or advanced?"

"Huh?"

"Beginner it is." Hinata lathers his hands with a sweet, lavender scented oil, enjoying the smooth, sticky feeling on his palms. _Break the ice, break the ice, break the -_ "So, how old are ya?"

"Twenty." Bullshit, thinks Hinata. They're both freshmen in college.

"Ah, that makes you my senpai then." He starts kneading his knuckles into the broad back. "You're so stiff, senpai."

"Shut up."

"It's like feeling up a rock - wow. " His hands, a blur of feel-good just moments ago, now sit palm down on taut clear skin. There's a freckle, a _freckle,_ splashed carelessly on the left longissimus dorsi region, and Hinata wonders if they'd be any more surprises hiding down the lower back...

"Don't tell me you work out?" His fingers hop back in action.

"I, _ngh,_ play volleyball." The customer jerks, and Hinata catches the familiar flush on the former's earlobes. He vaguely remembers Kuroo complaining about needing to repair the central AC, and suddenly the room is _hot_.

"Maybe we should play some time," Hinata says, half truthful and half doing his job, wiping the little droplets of sweat off his forehead with a free wrist. _Damn this wig_.

The room is silent, save the soft gasps from his customer every time Hinata's hands knead over the right spot. He reapplies more of that sickening sweet oil, trying to do this right since the poor guy probably walked in thinking it was a professional massage salon.

"Dumbass," says Grumpy.

When the guest finally leaves, and Hinata finds a post it with a phone number wrapped in between fifty bucks, he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

* * *

He doesn't call; that's not part of his job description after all. Plus, Hinata's not so lonely to swoop that low. It was probably a joke: what kind of person hits on a random stranger like that? And then Hinata remembers Tanaka Ryuunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu, two of his best buds since high school.

He eyes the dark ball of snores one row down, to his right. It's the guy from yesterday. His head is flat on the foldable desk, note book still closed and on his lap. The Japanese Lit professor, standing at the front of the lecture hall, seems to have deemed him a lost cause.

The class is over in what seems like hours, and Hinata starts packing up his notes when he notices a group of people trying to wake up the slumbering beast. There's a guy with hair the color of dirt, hair that swoops upwards against gravity, and another shorter young man with darker spiked locks. They're taking turns poking the poor boy with a pencil, with the taller one cooing about how "Tobio-chan has the cutest sleeping face ever" and "Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan take a picture for memory!" when the sleeping guy shoots up like a rocket.

"Morning, Kageyama," says 'Iwa-chan,' Mr. Spiked Hair.

"You felt my lovely presence didn't you, Tobio-chan?"

"Ugh, shut up Oikawa."

They walk Hinata's way, and the short boy holds back his breath. Closer, closer, and...they walk right past him. No pause, no double take. Kageyama and co. don't even flinch.

At this point Hinata feels stupid, and he runs a hand through the orange tufts practically springing from his scalp. He reaches into his pocket, fingers feeling for the post it note and crumpling it in a single crunch.

So much for that.

The next time he sees Kageyama, it's at Marmalade, room 621 again, and he nearly drops his wig from jerking his head back in shock. He's still dressed as a school girl, but this time it comes with a pink blazer and solid blue skirt.

"Missed me that much, sugar?" Hinata hopes it's a smile on his own face and not a grimace. The taller boy scowls, craning his neck so to look away from the shorter figure, cheeks lightly flushed. Hinata's own face suddenly feels a bit hot, and he's grateful for the poor lighting in the room.

"My back still feels a bit stiff from volleyball. I-it's not like I asked for you, dumbass!"

Hinata blinks. Coincidence or not, this standing ball of grouch is still his customer, so he swallows the itty bitty grains of annoyance latching to his tongue. He rolls the sleeves of the blazer up and reaches for a jar of vanilla scented oil, when Kageyama clears his throat.

"Use the one from last time...please." So the baby's sentimental, huh? Hinata lathers the lavender bliss all over his palms and onto the flat of Kageyama's back.

"Still beginner, hm?"

"Uh, yeah I guess." A shrug, and soft breaths.

"So um," the taller guy moves his head to the side on the massage table, his eyes almost, _just almost_ , visible to one Hinata Shouyou. "Did you see something? You know, in the wad of bills last week?"

Hinata almost stops what he's doing, but plays it off as a slowed tempo. "No, I didn't. Was there something I should've?"

The room is silent, and then the session is over like that. His classmate reclothes himself, hands him fifty, and walks out the room. Hinata thinks this nightmare is finally over, when a sweaty Kageyama rushes back in, strides long and rigid like a nutcracker. His cheeks are beet-red, and Hinata feels his own stomach drop.

"My name is Kageyama Tobio! Erika-san, please be friends with me prior to going out!" He hands Hinata a post it note with an email address and cell number, which the shorter male awkwardly accepts.

"Please excuse me!" And then he bows, briskly walking out the door.

Hinata Shouyou, eighteen years old, virgin, _male,_ and single, stands by the doorway still as a lamppost as his wig falls off.

 _Oh_ ** _shit._**


	2. Sugar Sugar Kiss Kiss

It's the second, no third, time that Kageyama checks his phone in class. Each time he does, he closes his eyes and visibly deflates, the mood around him growing all the more darker. Hinata tries to keep his head straight, straining his ears to catch the important details in lecture, because god forbid they're for a prompt on a paper due next week. But his eyes always trail back to the hunched over lump in the corner.

There's a tiny spark of guilt flaring in his stomach. It's already been two weeks, and Erika has been quite the coy little maiden all the while, relentless in her unwillingness to message the poor bastard. _It's not his problem, it's not his_ – Hinata sneaks a glance at the taller boy, swears he can see bats hovering above him, and lets out a heavy sigh.

He heads to the restroom after class to send a text (just _one text),_ hiding in a stall two sizes too big.

 _Many spanks for yur number_

There's no way he'd respond to that. Hinata slumps into the toilet seat, and nearly drops his phone in the bowl when it instantly vibrates.

 _Erika-san?_

Talk about wishful thinking.

 _Hi! Sorry it took so long. I've been swamped_

Hinata winces, remembering that he was supposed to send only one text, one _singular_ text. He opens the door and leaves the stall, ignoring the stares people shoot him as he sprints past the sinks, when his phone trembles in his pocket.

 _When are yu free?_

 _you*_

Hinata pauses, rounding the corner of the hallway like a snail, slowly pacing the way with his face on his phone. Ah, fuck it.

 _idk_

Okay, any normal person would take offense to that, and Hinata smiles in victory.

A few minutes pass by, and he figures Kageyama's lost interest, so he starts walking to the library. Any later and he'd get his head chewed off by Tsukishima -

 _Are you free next Saturday?_

Hinata could almost imagine the blush on Kageyama's face as the latter typed this, and his own heart thumps in his chest, in annoyance of course.

"What's with your face?" says the tall boy with the glasses, his mouth twisting into a knowing smirk, as Hinata collapses into a seat. "It's disgusting."

"Tsukkii!" The shorter, freckled young man sitting next to the "Tsukkii" in question, flails his arms in the crossfire. Yamaguchi, if Hinata's memory holds.

"My face is normal. Your face is weird!" There's a glare, and the way Glasses' mug tightens and scrunches up makes Hinata's flee instincts flare. But then it's gone, smooth as running water.

"Whatever. You've brought your textbook right?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's in here somewhere..."

" _Hinata_."

 _"_ Right, right got it!" He yanks out a dense purple wrapped thing, with the words ALGEBRA splashed on the thick cover. "I don't get the weird letters."

Yamaguchi coughs, fingers threading through the smooth and yellowing pages.

"Hinata, how did you get pass high school?" says the freckled boy, form hunching and trying to hold back a laugh. Tsukishima doesn't give a shit, face planting into the hard wooden desk and shoulders heaving up and down in spasms.

"S-shut up! I had it covered back then! It's just been a while."

One of the librarians walks by with a glare, and Yamaguchi and Hinata both shrink into their chairs. It's quiet, and then someone's phone rings.

"Ah, sorry. Forgot to put it on silent," says Yamaguchi, scratching his neck in embarrassment.

"Say guys," Hinata starts, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. "if someone you don't really want to talk to gives you their number, would you text them?"

"No," says Tsukishima flatly.

"But, but what if they seem really sad? Like _sad_ sad? And like when you do text them, they keep asking to hang out but you don't really know if it's a good idea?"

"That's why you don't text them, idiot."

"Come on, Tsukkii. I'm sure Hinata's just being nice."

"W-what? No! This isn't - I'm not the one in the story!"

"Sure you're not," smirks Glasses.

"Tell them you're moving to Alaska," chirps the freckled youth.

They spend a few more hours at the long table, heads buried in scraps of paper, with the occasional taunts and head butts when things get _boring_ , and Hinata thinks this is nice.

* * *

He can't believe he's here, _actually_ here, and in a skirt no less. Hinata's resisting the urge to bolt, to just turn away and run from this disaster that's awaiting to unfold, when he catches a tall and familiar form by the fountain. It's Kageyama, hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression crawling on his face. He's slouching over, but with the grace and rigidity of a statue, and Hinata catches himself staring.

A shuffle, and the shorter boy pulls out his cellphone. The screen reads 12:00, and at 12:30 he takes a deep breath, trying to recompose himself, trying to keep the damn skirt from rising up.

"Hey there," he says, waving to his classmate, wig bouncing with each step. As soon as he catches the other's attention, Hinata swears the sun's in his eyes. Kageyama's smile, it is _that_ blinding and almost looks wrong on his usually sullen face. The taller guy seems to realize the weird shape his mouth is making and turns his head, cheeks tingling.

"H-hello," says Kageyama, trying his best to scowl.

"I'm sorry for being late!"

"It's fine. I-It's not like I was early or something, s-stupid!" The whole time he's not looking at Hinata, but the pink on his face gives him away. _Well, time for Plan B._

They're sifting through the shopping district, stopping at all the trinket and gift stores, as Hinata squeals and gushes at every ugly plushie or phone strap.

"This! This one! It looks like you!" He grabs a phone strap with a small crow-like bird dangling from it, its eyes in a squint and face glowering comically. It's hideous, and Hinata smirks inwardly. _I've got you now._

Kageyama stiffens, growls and yanks it from Hinata's smaller, thinner hands, and the latter thinks the hangout is finally over. So, it's to no surprise that Hinata nearly shrieks when the grumpy rushes over to the cashier, slams the ugly thing on the counter, and throws down 500 yen. The whole store seems to be clapping when the scowling boy walks back to Hinata, and hands the phone strap to him.

"Erika-san, please hang this on my phone," he says, eyes still averted and earlobes as pink as Hinata's blouse. He could only nod weakly and attach the foul thing to Kageyama's phone, fingers feeling limp like cotton.

An hour passes, and then two, with Hinata sprinting past streets and leaping through the crowd. It's been a while since he's gone out, like _out_ out, not the ridiculous trek to uni or the long walk of shame to work. This is nice, this is free, and Hinata almost forgets it's not supposed to be.

"Are you hungry?" They're walking side by side now, and Hinata pretends not to notice the way Kageyama's hand sways close to his every now and then, fingers twitching and curling into a fist.

"Yep, but I'm choosing the place!" He rushes off ahead, skirt flapping in the wind like wings, and points to a certain restaurant. "That one!"

Sugar Sugar Kiss Kiss. That is the exact name, no abbreviations. He drags the stunned youth into the pink and fluffy entrance, the feathers and glitter on the banner only amplifying the whole experience. When the waitress asks what they'd like to eat, Hinata shouts "Purple Unicorn Burger!" with no hesitation.

"And you, kind sir?" He tries to smother the seeds of laughter bursting from his throat. The poor girl is stiff as a cactus, practically melting from the glare of the customer. And then Kageyama sighs, ears ablaze.

"I'd like the...Sparkling Happy Fillet..." And he crushes his face into his hands, cursing under his breath.

The shorter boy leans back on the pink cushioned chair, legs spreading wide with no regard for his skirt. He glances across the table and sees the brunet gaping at him.

"Yes?"

"Somehow, you're nothing like I thought you'd be."

"That so?" He sticks his pinky in his ear, digs, and flicks. "Hope I don't disappoint."

When the food arrive, Hinata makes it his job to stuff his face, smearing the burger grease all over his lips. A loud burp escapes from his throat, and he sneaks a peek at the taller guy.

"You're not eating?"

"Dumbass. You're gonna choke like that."

"Aw, thanks for worrying sugar!" He smiles, purposely showing the piece of lettuce lodged between his teeth. His phone buzzes and he checks the message, grimacing at the maid costume and Kuroo's shit-eating grin in the picture. No way in _hell._

"So, how's volleyball?"

"It's fine. I'm on the university's team."

"Ehh?!" He nearly topples the table over. "You must be pretty good then?"

"Of course," There's a smug look of confidence on his face, which quickly melts into a simmering frown. "I'm still fighting it out with a sempai for the regular spot, but I'm sure I'm better than that gaudy peacock." The waitress returns with their drinks, one orange juice for Hinata and one lemon tea for the other.

"Can I have some of yours?"

"Oi -"

He reaches for the tea, downing it in a single gulp.

"Woops, ah, do you want some of mine?"

Kageyama eyes the glass of orange juice, which was - save for a few ice cubes - also empty.

"Sure." And he reaches for it, bringing the glass to his lips with a thoughtful sort of expression, and chews on some ice.

They decide to split up afterward, since Hinata's got a shift in an hour. Hinata feels both relief and a strange sort of heaviness in his stomach. Probably from of all the food he ate. Kageyama pays for the both of them, scowling and insisting it's because he had his wallet out first, not that there's some special meaning behind it or something. It's quiet as they walk out of the restaurant. The spring air flutters past them, gently pushing the taller youth's dark locks into flight, and Hinata looks away, cheeks a bit warm and reminding himself this is _the last_ time.

"Well...bye-bye!" He waves before turning on his heel and walking towards the crosswalk, trying to melt into the crowd. He's got to get Kuroo to blacklist this guy, or at least lie that Erika's not there, that she's moved to Alaska to settle down with an eskimo, _anything._ _Don't look back, don't look -_

"Let's do this again!" Hinata flips around, eyes wide in shock and heart thumping like crazy in his chest.

"Let's do this again!" repeats Kageyama, face reminiscent of a tomato and eyes pleading. "It was - I had a lot of fun!"

"Yeah..." The boy with the orange locks nods absentmindedly, before turning around one last time and walking away. The wind is chilly, and he probably has a ton of homework waiting for him at home, not to mention checking Natsu's for her later... when he realizes what he just said out loud.

 _Oh_ _**shit.**_

Hinata resists the urge to fling his body into the sun.


	3. Nyah Nyah Neko-chan

**First off, this is a repost from my ao3 account. It's not edited and I know it's been years since I've updated XD. I haven't logged on fanfiction's site in years either, so I'm sorry for the literal years it took for me to respond to reviews. Thanks a lot, really appreciate them. Anyway, enjoy.**

* * *

It's been more than a week since Hinata met up with Kageyama, and now he can't even look the poor bastard in the face. Which shouldn't be a problem; they don't normally interact anyway, and definitely don't share the same circle of friends. But since the taller boy sits a few rows behind him at lecture, Hinata has no choice but to walk past the gloomy bundle every other day.

His phone buzzes more often since then, and while it is easy to ignore at first, sticking two fingers in his ears while reciting the alphabet backwards each time, after Hinata stopped taking requests at work from a _certain_ someone, his phone's been beeping like a fire alarm. He takes a quick peek at Kageyama, using the screen of his Samsung as a makeshift mirror, and nearly drops the cell. _It's a_ ** _d-demon_** _._

The screen suddenly lights up, and Hinata swipes left to see the text. And all the recent ones he tried so hard to skip over.

 _Did you get home safe?_

 _I really meant it when I said I had a great time._

 _Erika-san, when can I see you again?_

 _Are you angry?_

 _Did you really go to Alaska?_

Hinata scrolls through the messages, until landing on the most recent one.

 _I miss you_

 _Not good._ He feels the heat blossom on his cheeks like a damn flower and buries his face in his hands. _Not good - not good - not good-_

He takes a peek behind him with the mirror again, and Kageyama's got his head down, ebony bangs covering his face but just missing the telltale glow of those ears. Hinata feels his pulse rise, and sits up straight facing the board. It's not like he can hear the words of the Japanese Lit professor, not with all the blood rushing to his head.

As soon as the lesson is over, Hinata rushes out of the hall. Or, at least he tries to. His face collides with something soft but rigid at the same time, and he glances up, hand gingerly rubbing a stubbed nose.

"S-sorry!" And then he freezes.

"Watch where you're going, dumbass." The taller boy pauses, glaring at the ginger the way someone would stare at the words on a cereal box. There's a shadow looming over his face, unmistakable dark rings rimming his eyes, and Kageyama growls. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Y-yes! I mean no!" Hinata jumps out of the way, sprinting up the ramp and out of the room. He tries not to notice how hunched Kageyama's shoulders are, how utterly _miserable_ he seems. _No, no that was the_ last _time._ Hinata's sneakers squeak in distress as he kicks up speed, clammy palms thrusting into his pockets while the onigiri breakfast runs circles in his stomach.

 _Amazing._ Hinata glances over his shoulder and sees Kageyama (totally uninterested in him by the way) with two other young men, the ones that visit him each time after class. _Makeup is truly amazing._ He's about to make his way to the ground level when he catches the tallest one, the one with caramel hair swooped up, staring at him, an unreadable smile flashing on his face. Hinata trips before reaching the stairs.

It takes another four hours before his last class ends, more than enough time to sulk in boredom, and Hinata rushes to the seedy lot of Marmalade. There's a whisk of musk mixed with cheap perfume sitting in the halls, the sinking stairs whining with every ascending step. Hinata takes his time, fingers sliding along the dusty banister.

God, he does _not_ want to be here right now. Too many hours, too many old men, too many memories of a certain grouchy blushing boy.

He passes by the receptionist booth, a run down and glorified walk-in closet fitted with a glass window. Kuroo sits with his feet up on the table. His eyes glue to his phone on whatever new trendy game that came out that week.

"You're late, shorty."

"Well Kenma says he loves you."

" _What?!_ " The phone is thrown down, forgotten. Hinata gives him a big grin, making sure it's the shit-eating kind.

"Just kidding!"

"Tch! I'm taking your tip, ya damn brat."

"You wouldn't!"

"Just hurry your ass up. All the girls are here already." Which prompts a lot of tongue sticking from both parts.

Hinata stuffs a hand into a pocket, pulling out a key and unlocking the prep room. Inside there's two vanity mirrors, a shower, and four clothing racks packed full of fluffy, frilly costumes. The ginger peeks behind the sturdy door and ducks his head underneath a table.

"Where's Yachi?"

"She's taking a break. Says her nerves are acting up again." Hinata crawls out of the table's shade, feeling a bit lonely from the lack of company. It's also nice having someone who's always more nervous than you around.

"You have a guest in 621. He's asking for neko." Kuroo runs a hand through his permanent bed head. "You've got ten." And then he's gone, like a bad dream.

The short boy sifts through the nearest clothing rack, running his hands along each outfit and enjoying the smooth tugs on his palm. He settles for a black lolita-style dress with lacy frill trimmings, slips out of his jeans and tee-shirt, and pulls the dress over his head in a single yank.

Hinata spends a few minutes in a speed make-up run, making sure to widen his eyes and accentuate his cheekbones. He shoots a peek at the unfamiliar face in the mirror. The small, feminine figure stares back. Still, something seems off...and then he clips on some furry black cat ears to his wig. The door slams open.

"You ready?" Kuroo sticks his head into the room for a second, before turning on his heel to leave. It doesn't matter if Hinata's done or not. If Kuroo asks if you're ready, then you're ready.

He follows the taller man through the damp hallway, thinking he should Febreeze the place, and before he knows it he's in front of room 621.

"After you, princess."

Hinata opens the door.

"Good evening nyah~ I'm Erika, here to serve master!" And he nearly chokes on his spit. Because sitting on the massage table is the tall, frivolous looking friend of Kageyama. Oikawa, he believes.

"Yoohoo! Classmate-san!" The guy is waving, a stupidly innocent smile on his face, but he knows better. Hinata swears he almost sees sparkles floating around the guest. He quickly clears his throat, throwing on a sweet smile as well.

"Nyah? Erika is Erika, not Classmate-san! Master is silly~" Hinata hopes the sweat is not melting off his make-up. The small room is chilly though; he feels the telltale pop of goosebumps springing from his skin.

"Ehhh. Sorry, sorry I'm mistaken," chirps Oikawa, throwing his hands up. He checks out the shorter boy, eyes trailing from the latter's ankles, spiraling up his legs and stopping at the stuffed chest, before landing on his face. "Erika-chan sure has a boyish figure." A wink.

"Uwaa, so mean! Erika is only a neko, you know?" Hinata rolls his sleeves up, dipping his small hands into the cool vanilla scented oil. His heart is still thumping in his chest, waves of panic washing over his form like a kid caught telling a lie. When he turns around, Oikawa is already lying on the table, face down with a cloth above his underwear.

"Does Master want-"

"Advanced, please." There's suddenly a heavy pressure in the air, and Hinata swallows the lump in his throat.

"O-ok."

The shorter boy starts as usual, lathering the guest's back with the vanilla bliss, making sure to soak every corner of his skin with the sweet oil. He kneads his knuckles into the stiff back muscles, rubbing circles with his palms. And then his hands trail down.

"M-master has such a broad back." Hinata's hands descend to the lower back, stopping at the elastic waistband, and finally resuming on the calves. This time, his palms slowly dance upwards, crawling past the gastrocnemius to the inner thighs. He applies more of the devil's oil, rubbing the scent and warmth into the sensitive flesh.

"Keep going," hums Oikawa.

So Hinata keeps going. With a gentle nudge, the shorter boy's got Oikawa rolling over, hands folded underneath the latter's neck. He catches the outline of Oikawa's six pack, and the corners of his mouth dip in jealousy.

"Like what you see?" Hinata decides he dislikes the guy.

His hands lightly linger over the taller man's navel, before creeping down his glory trail. And then some. A soft gasp fills the space of the room. Hinata dips his fingers back into the jar, relishing the chill kiss of the oil, trying to ease the heat off his face. But just for a second. He's still got a job to do, no matter how humiliated he feels. _It's fine. I'm used to this._

This time he slips his hand further down, brushing past the...foilage in the way and settling for the smooth of Oikawa's sex. It's already semi hard, and Hinata lighly pokes it, watching it sway back and forth like a tipping doll.

The orange haired youth wraps his right hand along it, sliding his grip up and down from the base to the head. He tries not to hear the slick friction or heavy panting, and instead focuses on the sudden buzz in his pocket. _Kageyama._

His hand starts picking up speed and Hinata throws a frenzied glance over at the man laying on the table. He doesn't know it's disappointment he feels when he sees that it's still Oikawa.

"You know, you're _ngh_ pretty good at this."

This is not a dick he's holding. He is not currently jerking someone off - A final grunt, and the boy feels something warm and moist splatter on his face.

Hinata stands there, frozen in the bite of the AC, before jolting back into musky room. He wipes the spunk off his cheeks with the back of his arm. A couple minutes pass while the guest reclothes himself and fixes his hair, throwing a curious smile on his face and bringing a finger to his lips.

"I won't say anything. Maybe. Oh and, keep the change." And he tosses the cash.

The shorter boy stares at the wad of bills in his hands, exactly two hundred dollars, stomach starting to churn. And now he's on his knees, the frills of the dress kissing the cold hard floor.

When his phone had vibrated in his pocket during the massage, just who was he thinking of? Just who did he wanted it to be?

His brain doesn't even want to contemplate the possibility of blackmail. And it doesn't. He rubs his belly, trying to calm the roaring storm, then checks his cell. One unread message.

 _I need to see you_

Ah. There's a heat in Hinata's stomach now, and if someone saw him at this moment, all breathless and flustered with his clothes all ruffled, they'd think the worst of him. Hinata counts to ten, tripping over what comes after five, and then screams silently into his collar.

He's not going to. No, no defnitely not -

 _Okay_

His phone buzzes again, the beeping techno ringtone a testament to his woes.


	4. He's an M

**Hi, another update kinda. Unedited, enjoy.**

* * *

"It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah." Hinata's sitting by the balcony, the door to the fire escape slightly ajar. There's a dim glint to his eyes, body leaning over the banister by the flat of his chest, and arms swaying past the metal railing. His cell is perched right between his ear and shoulder. His wig dances in the autumn breeze.

It almost seems like a dream, that he'd be basking in the glow of the street lamps on such a night. That he'd be this strung over someone he barely even knows. And a _guy,_ no less. Hinata feels the smooth cave of his throat with his tongue, and it tastes bitter, sharp even.

A soft choke from the other side, and then: "Where were you?"

Scrambling for words: "In Alaska." The moon is finally out, and Hinata can just make out the cracked sidewalk and empty lot below, little weeds springing from the asphalt. His cheeks are swirling with warmth and he kicks himself. _God, this isn't_ _normal._ He digs his fingernails into the chipping paint, scratching, flicking.

"You really...?"

 _"Not_ eloping with an Eskimo." He could already see the smug smile on Kuroo's face.

"But your coworker-"

"Is an asshole. And likes to tell stories. I was just visiting my grandma abroad, ya know? She..." Hinata struggles to finish his sentence, "won the lottery?" He wants to bang his head into a wall for his stupidity.

"I see." A shuffle. Just a _hint_ of what seems like a breath of relief... "After that day, you didn't respond to my messages. I thought I did something wrong. Or you were hurt or..." Kageyama's voice comes out a bit rough, like sandpaper.

"I, uh, had no signal. It's all trees there. And snow and, uh, trees. Anyway I'm here now, aren't I?" He checks his cell, and sees that he's still got five minutes to his break. Hinata's heart is beating like a drum, and he feels his pulse in his ears.

"You're back in Japan?"

"Yup, sugar. Supposed to be a surprise, but eh." The boy flips his palms, picking out the clumps of black paint from his fingernails. The heat's still on his face, so Hinata smacks his cheeks and yelps when he realizes he probably rubbed off some foundation.

"That's," a soft breath, "great." Hinata can practically hear the smile through the phone. "Really, really great." _Oh god, don't do this -_

"So when can I see you again?"

"Whoa, a little eager aren't ya?" Suddenly, there's a fog in his head. Hinata's getting ready to head back now, back into the musky halls and dim yellow lighting. He eyes the silhouette of the receptionist booth, and sees that it is of course empty. _Tch, lazy bastard._ "I'll contact you again when my shift ends," he says, smoothing out the wig and scratching his neck nervously.

"Okay." With a click, the most unlikely of connections is cut short, and Hinata curses the thumping of his chest.

Boy, is Kuroo getting a field day out of this.

* * *

When Hinata Shouyou finally musters enough courage to message back Kageyama, he doesn't expect to agree to meet by an aquarium. Yet there the ginger is, fitted in a blue dress, with an equally blue choker strategically wrapping over his Adam's apple.

He's there early, waking up a good two hours before the trains run, after tossing and turning in his futon the whole night. In all eighteen years of his life, this is his first real date. And it's not even _his._

Hinata catches a familiar tall figure by the aquarium's entrance, towering over girls in skimpy mermaid costumes handing out flyers. Scaring little children into hiding behind their mothers' skirts. From the look of things, Kageyama must have gotten here even earlier than he did. The young man's standing straight like a pole, eyes intent on burning a hole through whatever he's staring at, an unmistakable scowl crawling on his face.

Hinata has half a mind to go over and greet the sullen boy, but stops himself. Questions like 'should I be doing this?' keep permeating his mind, the 'should' crossed out into a 'could,' and finally transforming into a blob of red ink. His mind's a fucking edited paper.

Before he gets the chance to bail, he takes a stride just a bit too wide and slips on air.

"Ow ow ow..."

"Erika-san!"

In a matter of seconds Hinata is surrounded, picked up, and checked over, a nervous Kageyama apologizing profusely afterwards for being too familiar.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. This happens a lot," says Hinata, waving the fall off as nothing.

"Yeah, I'm sure it does." Then, softer: "Idiot."

"…What?"

"I said you're an idiot! How do you even trip on nothing!"

"T-there was something! A rock! You just didn't see it." Hinata puts on his most intense glare, puffing his chest up to seem bigger, but only comes out looking silly. Try as one might, but it's hella hard looking manly in a dress. Especially if they're as small as Hinata.

"Yeah, okay sure." Kageyama rolls his eyes. Suddenly the shorter boy feels indignant, like a kid caught in a tantrum. _Why_ did he even come? It must have been a momentary weakness to have felt bad for the bastard. Probably like a male period. Do guys even get periods? _I should have stayed home, who cares about that mopey ass!_

"Let's go." Hinata looks up, about to rip him a new one, when he's struck speechless by the look on Kageyama's face. Sure, there's still that everlasting scowl, but hidden beneath the layers of heated blue and furrowed eyebrows is a glimmer of worry. It makes Hinata's stomach knot up.

Once surrounded by the gentle blues and cool of the exhibits, they talk more about themselves. Hinata learns that Kageyama also played volleyball in high school. At Shiratorizawa, no less. Somehow, the ace back there ( Ushiwaka) didn't seem to like him much. Hinata is surprised - who hasn't heard of the champion school? – and lets it slip that he used to play for Karasuno. Though he had to quit during his junior year – the ginger developed tendinitus on his calcaneal tendon from constantly jumping, and like an idiot refused to tell anyone or see a doctor until it was too late. By the time the tear had healed, he'd been warming the bench until graduation day.

"I've been meaning to try out for my uni's team, but things have gotten rocky back home. My dad's lost his job, ya see? So I've gotta work part time to cover my own expenses."

At the mention of his job, Kageyama is suddenly quiet. Gone are his fleeting glances to the shorter boy and pink flush on his cheeks. He doesn't tear his eyes from the jellyfish exhibit, and instead watches the puffy, translucent things circumnavigate the tank.

"Why does it have to be there?" asks Kageyama.

"What do you mean?" Ah. The dreaded conversation.

"You could have easily worked at a convenience store or something. There's no reason to be..." A pause. Hinata quirks an eyebrow.

"What? Spit it out, Kageyama."

 _"Touching_ people's skin. It's not something a good girl like you should be doing."

Hinata chokes on his spit, sounding like a cat throwing up a hairball. _Excuse me?_ "Don't stick your nose in someone else's business." The shorter boy walks off, hands stuffing into his pockets and fists balled, huffing.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." He sticks his tongue at the tall bundle of limbs running after him. "I'm tired of this place." Then, as if to spite the other: "And I _hate_ aquariums."

They end up invading a sports store, loudly washing ashore to the sneaker section, bright eyes scanning the walls for the newest hottest model. Hinata picks out a flashy orange and green thing from one of the higher shelves, tiptoeing to no avail until finally leaping, _flying_ , towards the ceiling. His calloused hands grab on by the heel, snatching it in a single swipe. As he starts unlacing the shoe laces, Kageyama clears his throat, perhaps a bit too loudly.

"Um, Erika-san?"

"Hm?"

"This is the men's section."

A blink. "So?"

"And that's a men's shoe."

Hinata stares at the taller boy like the latter had sprouted an extra head. Or two. A sigh escapes from Kageyama's twitching mouth.

"So, you're saying you're going to wear these? Is that even your size?"

His cheeks suddenly feel warm with the sudden realization and Hinata's mouth flops, opening and closing and trying to say something, _anything_ , to block off the embarrassment.

"It's for a friend!" He quickly brings a hand to his mouth, shocked that he'd actually shout out loud. The shoe drops to the ground, rolling a bit before stopping to a halt. Hinata reaches for the sneaker, lost in whatever B grade horror movie fantasy he's in, when he suddenly hears a muffled huff. Caramel eyes shoot up.

Kageyama's got his head hanging low, dark ebony bangs feathering his face, and his shoulders shake.

"Kageyama?" More shaking. Hinata feels a wave of anxiety crash into his form, and reaches out to the crying(?) boy.

"Hey, are you okay? Don't tell me my yelling scared you? Well, I _do_ got a manly voice-"

"Heh." The taller young man suddenly raises his head, shoulders still rumbling. "Heh heh heh." He's _laughing._ His mouth is twisted into a lopsided grin and Hinata just can't bring himself to look away. Kageyama takes a deep breath, and steadies himself. He gently places a hand on Hinata's shoulder.

"You're really something else." And then the hand is gone. Hinata almost misses the fleeting touch, the soft warmth.

It's at this moment that Hinata finally figures something out. All of his recent lack of immunity towards the vertically blessed sulking boy seems to stem from two terrifying little words: gap moe. That such a grouchy guy can make such a cute blushy face is a downright crime. _A trap_ , thinks Hinata. He shakes his head, trying to shake off all the fuzzy thoughts in his mind, and of course failing. _That's right, there really isn't anything more to that..._

"So who're you buying sneakers for?"

"Tsukishima." The orange haired youth groans, wanting to kick himself for his slip of tongue. Really, _Tsukishima_ of all people?

"I know that guy. He's the tall one with the glasses. And the shit face." Dark blue eyes narrow.

"He's in all my classes. Well, almost. How do you know him?" asks Hinata.

According to grumpy, Tsukishima and Kageyama go at it like cats and dogs. They both have the same Art History class and are on the university volleyball team. And both come up with one thing or another to fight about. Or rather, Kageyama would be scowling and Tsukkii would pierce him with his infamously sharp tongue. Speaking of classmates, Hinata asks if he knew anyone else from his courses. Kageyama shrugs, but mentions how he does have a few friends on the team and some senpai from high school and middle school scattered throughout campus.

"You should get back into it if you really love it. Volleyball, I mean."

"Yeah, that sounds nice. Now if only money grows on trees." He tries to make his voice seem as disinterested as possible, but this is _volleyball_ they're talking about. The one sport, no lifestyle, that makes Hinata feel the most alive. After hearing from the doctor that he could no longer play for Karasuno, he's been crushed, lost even. The ginger places his hands in a lock, cradling his palms on the back of his head.

Kageyama mumbles something.

"Huh?"

"I said I'll pay you. Help you out with your rent. Anything." Hinata stares at the serious expression on the taller boy's face, and breaks into a laugh.

"What - no! I'm not looking for a sugar daddy. But tell you what - if I do play again, I want you to toss to me." The orange haired boy suddenly feels light, like when he's posing, aiming for a spike. Like when he's flying and sees the full view of the court.

"Sure, if you can even hit them."

"Of course I can! I'll send them flying so high, you'd _beg_ me to be the ace!"

After a few more minutes of meaningless chatter, the atmosphere around the two is soft, floating. They sit on a bench together, one of those seatings for customers to try on shoes, and their shoulders are close, almost touching. Hinata angles his neck, trying to peer through his bangs at Kageyama. He doesn't want to admit that he finds the other's scent pleasant, _exhilirating._ With a hesitant finger, he pokes the taller boy's shoulder.

"Ne, Kageyama."

"Yea?" There's a slight flush on the brunet's face, but it could have just been the lighting.

"What if...what if I'm not what you think I am?"

He's greeted by perplexed azure eyes, dark blue pools sinking into his soul. Kageyama scowls, striking a thoughtful pose.

"I felt that way on our first date. You're thinking too much, dumbass."

Hinata feels butterflies in his chest skydiving into his gut and suddenly realizes he just wants to see Kageyama smile again. ' _Date'..._

"I-"

"You're a really special girl, Erika-san. That is to say, you're unique. I-it's not like I'm impressed or anything!" There goes the glowing ears once more, and Kageyama pushes down on Hinata's head, hand ruffling the other's hair in defense.

Plush pink lips part in mid rebuttal, then flatten, depress. There's a weight in Hinata's stomach now, and he wonders if it's crushing all those winged insects into mush.

"T-thanks."

And then there's that smile. It's so bright and luminous and breathtaking and so out of place, but this time, Hinata hardly feels a thing. He almost doesn't realize when Kageyama's hand finally grabs his own, and the brunet pumps a fist up in happiness.

 _'You're a really special_ ** _girl.'_**

 _I'm really just a masochist, aren't I?_


End file.
